I come from Watch hill
by Just Mat
Summary: What if there had been one extra horse in the stables, and Egwene had taken that one instead of Bela. Would the owner of said horse just leave it at that, or would he chase after them. This is the story of Bas as he follows Moraine's group and finds them.


Saaa, Once again I begin a new story without even coming close to finishing any of the previous ones. I know this makes me a useless individual, but it's just the way I am. None of my other stories are dead, although it may seem that way, as I rarely update them. Just so you know.

Anyway, this story is about how the son of a friend of Tam gets interwoven into the wheel of time. I'm probably gonna' change some or perhaps even all of the pairings (Just because I'm evil). Also, things will start to diverge more and more from the original plot, mainly because I don't remember much besides the main story line.

Disclaimer: There are a lot of things I don't own but wish I did. The Wheel of time is one of them.

* * *

Bas pulled the hood of his robe further down as he continued down the road to Emond's field. The robe was heavy and thick, and kept him warm even in this spring that was as winter. Not that he needed the extra warmth, he'd always had a better resistance to cold than others, something that served him especially well these days.

He scowled as the harsh wind blew the hood off his head, again. The wind stung his eyes and he quickly pulled the hood back up, and down over his eyes. The weather was harsh these days, even though spring should have come long since. Tomorrow would be Bel Tine, but the days still hadn't lengthened one bit.

Bas glanced to his left, still holding the hood with his right hand, and scanned the dying forest. Almost no leaves were on the trees, and none were lying on the ground either. If the trees were any indication, crops would be sparse for all of the two rivers.

After slightly more than a minute, he found what he'd been looking for. In this cold, dead landscape, many of the landmarks between Watch hill and Emond's field had dissapeared, but the large boulder stood as clear as ever. _Almost there._

He leaned forward and patted Rad's nose. The large, brown stallion had belonged to Bas' father, and was the only horse Bas would ride. Or could ride for that matter. He felt clumsy on any other horse, finding it hard not to fall off. Only when he was riding Rad could he ride as well as any other Two rivers lad his age, better than most even.

Bas was sixteen years old, but looked at least twenty according to a lot of people. Those people always seemed to blame it on his eyes, saying they were far too wise and piercing for an adolescent. Whenever they did, Bas would just laugh, and walk away. Brown eyes they were. He had short black hair, barely longer than an inch.

His mother had died from a local plague when he was eight. The Wisdom had had no idea what it was, but his mother had said all women in her family died of it sooner or later. His father died five years later, only an hour after he'd been in an accident with a merchant's train.

The three years after that Bas had lived alone, working his father's farm by himself. Many families from Watch hill had sympathised, and about five of them had been willing to take him in. He had rejected their offers then, more because of the despair he had been in then than because of any form of pride or stubbornness. There was little pride in barely being able to stand at the end of every day, and Bas missed the stubborn streak that was second nature for Two rivers folk.

Still, working a farm by yourself at the age of thirteen was hard, especially in the beginning. He'd managed, though. Mostly because the families who had offered him a permanent place at their table, refused to let things go just because he insisted on living alone. They dropped by often. Sometimes to help with chores, other times to bring him some of their homemade cooking. Those visits were probably the only reason he'd managed back then.

Bas felt Rad picking up his pace as Emond's field came within view. The two-storey houses emmitted smoke from all the chimneys, and on the roofs, men seemed to be checking if the thatching needed to be repaired. He grinned, sharing the horse's joy. Emond's field had always had a different feel to it than Watch hill. To Bas, even with dead trees surrounding it, and the weather cold enough to freeze the winespring inn, Emond's field was radiant.

He dismounted as soon as he was between the houses. His robe fell open as he did so, and the wind blew it back, but Bas payed it no mind. Exchanging greetings with people he knew well, and those he knew less well also, he made his way to the center of the village. Most people he talked to wanted to know how things were going around Watch hill. Bas but shook his head, and people nodded sadly, understanding all too well hard times were everywhere.

The joy he had lost while talking to people about the weather returned in full force when he arrived in front of the Winespring inn, to find Rand and Mat carrying casks of cider and ale from a cart into the building. Although they were both two years older than him, and he'd barely seen them in the last three years, he admired them immensely.

He'd often visited Rand's dad's farm when he was small. Their fathers were good friends who'd once left the Two rivers together, before either he or Rand had been born. Both had come back with an outlander wife. Rand's mother had died even before his. The older boy was a rarity in the Two rivers, with his exceptional height and broad shoulders. Not only that marked him as different, though, his clear blue eyes and dark red hair were often the but of jokes. Rand had gotten al these traits from his outland mother, Kari, although Bas thought he himself looked pretty normal even though his mother was also from outside the two rivers.

"Oy, Bas! Help us with these caskets, will ya. When we´re finished, we´ll get to see the gleeman." Mat was grinning from ear to ear, and Bas could hardly blame him. Having a gleeman for Bel Tine was impressive. If anyone from Watch hill had known about the gleeman, they would certainly have travelled here with him.

He raised a surprised eyebrow at Mat however, and nothing more. Mat was second to no one when it came to pranks, and the prankster was well known for it. Mat was tall and thin, though nowhere near as tall as Rand, with short brown hair and brown eyes. His most distinguishable feature was his grin, that of a true troublemaker.

"A gleeman?" Mat nodded eagerly. Bas shrugged and picked up two of the caskets in the cart. They weren't heavy, barely more than a stack of firewood apiece. He looked up and took another glance at Mat's grinning face, then shrugged again. If there really was a gleeman, he'd find out anyway.

As they took the beverages to the inn's cellar, Bas noticed Rand and Mat were uncharacteristically silent, and both kept shooting furtive glances at him and at one another. At one time, Mat seemed as if he was about to say something, but then he closed his mouth again and hurried on ahead with the caskets. Bas shrugged unnoticeably, it was probably not his business. Besides a strong build, three years of singlehandedly working a farm had given him a less caring attitude to things that didn't directly concern him. He had enough stuff of his own to deal with.

When he came outside again to get more caskets Rad was gone, stabled by Hu or Tad most likely. His saddlebags and other belongings had probably been taken to one of the rooms in the winespring inn. It was where he always stayed when he came to Emond's field. It cost some money, but even though he was young, Bas had more money than the average farmer around here. Some merchants took pity on him because of his age and circumstances and payed more than his products were really worth. These merchants always stopped coming after a couple of times, but there was always at least one other to take their place.

When they'd just finished putting the last caskets in the cellar, Ewin appeared on the staircase leading up with a big grin on his face. Ewin was two years younger than Bas, and always seeking recognition from boys older than him, especially from Rand, Mat and Perrin. He rarely got it, though. For some reason, Ewin's face always reminded Bas of an overgrown mouse.

"Did you guys hear?" the boy asked. "There are strangers in Emond's field." To Bas' surprise, both Mat and Rand reacted as though their lives depended on it.

"Was he wearing a black cloak?"

"And riding a black horse?"

"Did it stay still in the wind?"

Bas found himself being surprised by this sudden onslaught of questions, and Ewin fared no better he saw. The boy's brown eyes were wide open, and he was hanging back slightly, as if to avoid catching whatever strange disease had affected the two older boys. His eyes went to Bas for a moment, then back. His self-important smile was in place again. "I don't think one of them had a black cloak. Her cloak is blue, and his cloak changes colours all the time. Sometimes it almost looks like he dissappears."

"Should there be someone who wears a black cloak?" Bas asked Rand and Mat, which made Mat close his mouth immediately, as if regretting that he had said anything already. Rand answered, though he seemed reluctant about it.

" When I was coming here from the farm, there was this person sitting on a black horse, wearing a black cloak that didn't move in the wind. Mat says he saw him too, but nobody would believe us." Mat nodded vigorously.

Bas raised his hands at them apologetically. "Probably someone looking for his sheep. You guys are just on edge because of the weather."

Mat glared at him at that, and muttered something about his father having said the same thing.

Bas then lowered his hands and smiled "So where's the gleeman?"

"Gleeman?" Ewin came tumbling down the stairs. "There's really a gleeman?"

Mat smiled at him and nodded vigorously. "Yup. But I think he's sleeping right now."

Where Ewin's eyes had seemed eager just a moment ago, they suddenly turned suspicious. " Really? You aren't just making this up are you?"

Ewin went on, and Mat replied, But Bas wasn't paying attention anymore. Mat being distrusted was nothing new. He followed them up the staircase, and heard Rand climbing up behind him. Mat and Ewin headed outside, but Bas had gotten up early to take care of the farmwork before leaving, and felt the need for sleep making his eyelids droop. He asked master Al'vere for his room and headed up the stairs. He'd probably wake up in a couple of hours, well before the night celebrations would start.

In his room, before he went to the bed, he went through the stuff he had brought with him, and took out the sword he'd gotten from his father Doun. He'd found it in the locked up closet after his father died. It was something Bas assumed his dad had gotten on his journeys. He'd been happy with it then, but after less than a day, he'd come to the realization that a farmer had no need for a sword. That was probably why his dad had also kept it locked in the closet. Only this winter, with wolves attacking cattle and man alike, had he taken it out again.

The sword wasn't big, he wouldn't have been able to put both his hands around the small hilt even if the wire-like guard hadn't been in the way of the second hand. But when he held it with one hand, it fit perfectly. The width blade was small compared to that of the broadswords used by merchant guards, and the blade was only about a meter in length. Somehow, even after it had been in a closet for who knew how many years, the edge was still sharp enough to shave with. Wrapping it back in his old cloak, he returned the sword to the rest of his belongings, then undressed, and went to sleep.

**(A/N: No, it doesn't have herons on it. Yes, it is one of those blades from the age of legends. I'm a fencer myself, and I have more experience than I like with blades that break in the middle of a match. Therefore, I decided to spare Bas this trouble and gave him an unbreakable blade) **

* * *

Tiredly he sagged down against the house until he was sitting there with his legs stretched out. For all that he had been here at least once a year since his birth, and therefore knew the layout of the village by heart, he had no idea whose house he was leaning against. The night had been chaotic.

_He'd been asleep for more than just a few hours. Only now did he realize that, with the starry sky above him. It was a stark contrast to the scene around him. Houses were burning, and people were fighting Trollocs. In the chaos, even with buildings burning on all sides, the only thing that made him able to distinguish who was human and who was not was their size. He gripped his sword tighter._

Those around him were tending wounded, and trying to extinguish the fires. He saw three men holding down a small boy while a woman with a braid, _Nynaeve?_, knelt over him. The fact that anyone was alive was close to a miracle.

_Shouting woke Bas from his slumber. He didn't hear it clearly at first, but when he did he immediately took out his sword, panick overwhelming him. _Trollocs in the two rivers? Impossible. Trollocs were creatures from fairy tales. _However, as soon as he'd put on trousers, the beasts came swarming into the village. Abandoning his other clothes, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway. He wasn't the only one. A man with a large, white moustache opened the door just after him, and the Al'vere family was already standing there in their sleeping attire, looking around in confusion and panic. Bas ran past them and went down the stairs. He thought he heard Egwene yell, but he ignored it._

He put the sword down beside him and took a better look at the wound. A cut just below his right shoulder that started where he only needed to turn his head to see, and ended around the curve of his arm where he couldn't see at all. The memory of how he got that came back to him as well, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He didn't want to think of that. He'd killed the first trolloc on sheer instinct, but the second would have killed him if the stranger with the sword hadn't lopped its head off in time. _The warder. _There had been other trollocs he'd fought that night, but he didn't remember them much. Maybe he killed them. Heck, they might have killed him for all he remembered, but then he probably wouldn't be sitting here.

He raised his head at the dull sound of approaching footsteps on hard ground. He only heard them when they had already almost reached him, the roar of the fires drowned out almost all other sounds.

It was Nynaeve, the village wisdom. She was young to be a wisdom, having reached adulthood less than ten years ago. Her braid, proof that she was not a child, was for once not hanging over her shoulder. Whisps of smooth, brown hair stuck out everywhere. That, along with the soot on her face and a stoop in her stance gave her the look of a beggar. The only thing about her that did not seem out of the ordinary was her strong eyes, shining in the night.

He took another look at his injury. It did look like it needed medical attention, or he might never use it again. On the other hand, he knew next to nothing about healing and wounds and whatnot. Farmers didn't get into that kind of stuff. _Or at least not until tonight. _

The wisdom said nothing while she took care of him, and Bas could see tears in her eyes. He wasn't surprised. Someone would definitely have died in the trolloc attack, or perhaps more than one. He still found it hard to believe that he had survived.

When Nynaeve was almost finished, the man with the white moustache came to her, saying something about Tam Al'thor. Nynaeve answered vehemently, and the man jumped back in shock and surprise. It was only then that Bas saw the cloak the old man was wearing. _Patches? A gleeman's cloak... _After that, everything went black.

* * *

When he opened his eyes again, it was still dark. Or perhaps it was dark again. The ceiling in his room in the Winespring inn seemed to be looking down on him. He slowly sat up and felt the blankets slide down. It took him a while to realize what had woken him. Shouts, outside the building. Fear gripped him as he imagined the Trollocs having come back. But the emotion soon quieted down as he continued to listen. The shouts weren't made by the guttural voices of Trollocs. They were human voices, with anger in them instead of fear.

He waited for his heartbeat to calm down, and then slowly climbed out of the bed, blushing slightly as he wondered who had taken off his bloodsoaked clothes. The blush grew as images started forming in his head, but he pushed them down.

He walked to the window and pushed aside the curtains. Outside, before the entrance to the Winespring inn, a crowd stood facing the Aes sedai, waving torches and the like. Bas shook his head. Whoever was in the crowd was an idiot. It was only thanks to the Aes sedai that they'd managed to survive. And if the Aes sedai had really brought the Trollocs to Emond's field, as Bas thought he hearded some in the crowd suggest, even more reason not to awaken her ire.

He let the curtains fall and walked back to his bed. Although he'd slept away most of the day and was therefore nowhere near falling over from lack of rest, he could still use some more sleep before he'd go back to Watch hill in the morning. Halfway under the covers he froze. _Watch hill! _If there were trollocs in Emond's field, they could be there as well. He jumped out of the bed and gathered his stuff as fast as he could, but still making sure he wouldn't be missing anything later.

He'd chosen to spend Bel tine in Emond's field rather than in his home village for multiple reasons. For one, less people here knew his parents, so he was less prone to remind people of them. The second, more important reason, was that women here were less eager to marry off a young boy who lived and worked alone on a farm to some distant family member. Less eager, but he still needed to take care not to hang around any mothers for too long. But for all of that, Watch hill was still the place where he, and a lot of people he knew, lived. He had to go see if he could help them.

Bas cast around the room for clothes to wear, but the ones he'd worn on his journey to Emond's field had been taken away, and had been coated with blood besides. He quickly dug into his saddlebags and pulled from them the outfit he'd been planning on wearing during Bel tine. It consisted of long, baggy trousers that were completely brown apart from a thin black line down both sides; a normal, white shirt, although it was the cleanest and newest one he had found in his drawer; and a red vest that was slightly too large for him because it had belonged to his father.

It was only when he was putting his right arm through the opening of the vest that he noticed his arm wasn't hurting at all. He pushed the shirt away over his shoulder to take a look at where the wound should be, and was surprised to find that there wasn't even a scar. The skin remained smooth all the way from shoulder to elbow. And even in the little light there was in the room, he could see that there was no discoloration. He flexed his arm experimentally a couple of times. Not a twinge to indicate there had ever been anything wrong with it.

He whistled admiringly and stared at it a while longer. _Nice, Nynaeve. _After that, he put his arm out of his thoughts and set about attaching the sword and scabbard to his belt.

When he had everything, he quietly left his room. All the others in the inn were apparently sleeping, as he met no one until he was outside, where he ran into what turned out to be a patrol. The patrol consisted of five men, all wearing rusted pieces of armor and carrying a rusted sword or a pitchfork. All in all, they didn't look like they might do much good.

One of them, Darl Al'gose, saw the sword at his waist, and inquired if he was also going to do patrols. Bas shook his head. "I'm going to Watch hill."

At that, most of the patrolmen just nodded, but Darl's eyes widened. It seemed no one had thought about what could have happened to the other villages.

After a while, Bas managed to refuse their offers to join him, 'in case there was trouble' they said. He didn't want to burden the Emond's fielders with any more than they had already had on their plate. They'd managed Emond's field, the people from Watch hill would manage Watch hill. The patrol wished him luck and safety, then moved on into the night.

Bas went into the stables then, to get Rad. It wasn't dark inside, a full moon shone clearly through the open stable doors. The smell of hay and horses was strong. He went past the stalsl one by one, master Al'vere's Dhurrans stood closest by, after them came some horses he did not recognize. They were big animals, better suited for pulling merchant's caravans than riding.

He blinked. There was only one horse left besides the Dhurrans and the strange horses. Bela, the horse that belonged to the Al'thors, stood sleeping peacefully.

In a panick, Bas checked every last stall, but Rad wasn't in any of them. There was nothing but straw. When he came to the last one, after having walked all the way round, he found a small bag by the entrance that he'd missed when he came in. He bent over and picked it up. A clinking sound, and the feel of solid, circular objects beneath the surface of the cloth, betrayed that the bag held coins.

Attached to the bag was a note, written in a neat, flowing script. Dark smudges of ink at the edges made it look like the note had been written in a hurry.

He gently tore the note from the bag and tried to read it, but there wasn't enough light in the stables. He left the small building and stepped outside. The note was short:

_To Bas Redeel,_

_Our apologies for taking your horse without  
permission, but we were in a hurry. Please  
take the money in the bag as compensation._

There was no clue in the note as to who had written it. But there was only the bag for him, and all the other visitors' horses were also gone. Since the flowing handwriting didn't fit the gleeman, or any man for that matter, Bas decided it must have been the Aes sedai.

He cursed, it would take hours to reach Watch hill without a horse, making going there now in the middle of the night as good as useless. He hit the wall of the inn, then kicked and hit it again for good measure.

"You okay, Bas?"

Bas turned around to face Bran Al'vere. The man was large, more so in width than in length, the few white hairs remaining on his head sticking in all directions. Looking at him, Bas could see the night hadn't done him any good either.

After a couple of seconds, Bas realized Bran was looking at him weirdly. He quickly closed his mouth to stop his frustrated panting. Then opened his mouth again after he'd gathered his wits and calmed down some.

"My horse, they took Rad."

Seeing that Bran wasn't completely understanding him, he handed the old man the note. Bran took it from him and quickly read it through, his eyebrows raising in confusion. "What would they need an extra horse for in such a hurry? Ah, how much did they give you anyway?'

Bas shrugged, signaling that he hadn't checked yet. He untied the strings and opened the bag. His jaw dropped in surprise. The bag was filled with gold coins, ten in total. This amount of money could easily buy the best horse in all of the Two rivers, with much of the gold to spare.

He closed the bag and looked up at the mayor, who'd come over to see and was now looking at him with the same expression Bas knew he had on his own face.

The man visibly shook himself and opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and shook himself again. "Ehem, well, that's quite a nice trade you got yourself there."

Bas put the bag in his pocket and took a look around to make sure nobody else knew about his newly gotten riches. The two of them were alone. He glanced at the stables and sighed. Even with this much money, travelling would be difficult without Rad.

An unbidden yawn rose from his throat, and Bas covered it with his hand. "I don't know about that yet, Master Al'vere, but I know I'm going to get some sleep. I'll think about what to do next in the morning. If you'll excuse me..." He stifled a second yawn, and went back to the inn. Bran nodded thoughtfully and followed him.

When he was in his room, Bas placed all his stuff on the ground, stripped off his clothes and went straight to bed, letting all his feastday clothes simply drop to the floor.

* * *

When Bas came downstairs the following morning, all ready for the journey home and fresh from the night's sleep, he found a large company staring desolately into the cold, empty fireplace. Bran Al'vere was holding his wife Marin, while they sat on the couch. On the other couch sat the Aybara family, and the chairs were filled with the members of the Cauthon family.

Remembering last night's event and his thought that surely someone would have died, he stepped towards them. "What's wrong?'

The mayor was the only one who looked up besides Mat's younger sisters Bodewhin and Eldrin, who both tried to smile at him, but couldn't.

Bran let go of his wife and stepped out of the depressed circle to inform Bas. "We found out why they needed your horse. We all got notes saying our kids have left for Tar Valon with the Aes sedai. Those three fool boys managed to get it into their heads that the Trollocs were after them and that they had to leave the Two rivers. Egwene just wanted to go, so she left too."

Egwene was Bran and Marin's oldest daughter. He knew her well, as did every boy his age in Watch hill. With her pretty figure and large eyes, she was probably the most beautiful girl in Emond's field, if not the two rivers. But everyone knew she and Rand would be married one day, so she lived a relatively normal life.

Bas looked at all the people gathered. If the Cauthons and the Aybaras were here, that meant two of the boys were Mat and Perrin. "Three boys?" He asked the innkeeper.

Bran nodded. "Mat, Rand and Perrin."

Bas lowered his head thoughtfully. If the first two were Mat and Perrin, he should have known Rand was the third. Those three were always doing stuff his eyes widened in realization and fear. "If Rand left, why isn't Tam here?"

Bran caught the look on his face and held his hands in front of him soothingly. "Tam got injured when the Trollocs attacked their farm," he explained. "He's lying upstairs in a bed. The...", the mayor swallowed once before he continued, "the Aes sedai said he would be all better in a couple of weeks."

Looking the man straight in the eye, Bas grabbed the old innkeeper's arm. "You let the Aes sedai heal him? Haven't you heard the stories? You should have let Nynaeve..." He stopped as the innkeeper laid his free hand on his shoulder.

"Nynaeve couldn't help him anymore, according to her, her medicines wouldn't do Tam any good, the same as with you."

Bas let go of the mayor's hand and stepped backwards, his left hand involuntarily going to his right shoulder, gripping it tightly. "W- with me?" he stuttered, "You mean the Aes sedai healed my arm instead of Nynaeve?" He bit off a curse, then started to ease his breathing to calm down. "No wonder..."

The mayor looked at him sympathetically, then said: "We're going to hold a village council meeting in an hour, to discuss what to do about Egwene and the boys. You should probably be there as well, seeing as your horse was taken. Unless you're happy with the gold of course." He sounded as if he expected the latter to be the case. He nodded to Bas, "We start in an hour." Then made his way back to Marin.

Bas shook his head, he wasn't happy with the gold. His farm wasn't close to Watch hill, more than an hour-long walk if you didn't have a horse. _If I could simply buy another horse and be done with it, the extra gold would be like a gift from the creator. But I can't handle any other horse.  
_

He picked up his saddlebags, and left through the front door after nodding goodbye to the depressed families, even though none of them saw it. Once outside, he rearranged his possesions for easier walking and started onto the road back to his farm.

* * *

As soon as he was home, Bas started gathering the things he'd need for a long journey outside the Two rivers. Watch hill was safe, he'd passed it on the way home and nobody there had noticed anything off, except for some weird screams in the middle of the night.

The Trolloc tracks he'd found had gone past Watch hill, so they probably just weren't interested. He wouldn't need to worry about his village, maybe they really had been after Mat, Rand and Perrin, or the Aes sedai.

He'd made the decision to go after them on his way home, the long journey on foot had given him plenty of time to think. Rather than Rad, what had made him choose to leave was the fact that Bas' father had left the Two rivers together with Tam, Rand's dad. Now, Rand had also left, and that meant he would as well. He grinned, eager to see the world beyond that of a small farming community

Catching up to them without a horse would be difficult, but perhaps he could get a couple of rides from farmers or merchants. And even if he couldn't catch up to the Aes sedai, he knew their final destination would be Tar Valon.

He shivered at the thought of a city full of Aes sedai. _Light, one of them used the one power on me, even if it was to heal me._

After he'd packed the first time, he decided that the load was too big for a person on foot, and discarded half of it. He didn't take out any of the savings he'd earned over the years. He couldn't use the gold the Aes sedai had given him to buy food on the journey, he'd need that to get Rad back.

_Do you really want te get back a horse that has been used by one of those witches?_

He shook his head to clear it. The Aes sedai would let one of the Emond's fielders ride on it, so it would be okay.

After he'd finally decided his pack was good enough, he wrote a small note and nailed it to one of the table legs. The note was simple, stating he was gone to get back his horse and see the world. If anyone wanted to know more, they would just need to ask Bran. Besides, it wasn't like he had an obligation to someone to explain his every action. He hadn't had something like that ever since his dad died.

He'd need to cross the river Taren to get to Tar Valon, so he set out to Taren ferry. On his way, he couldn't help but notice the Trollocs had left tracks also leading that way. Large bootprints that could not have been left by any man, and hoofprints that could have been made by a horse, but Bas knew were not. Trollocs sometimes had goat's feet.

It was past nightfall by the time Taren ferry came in sight. It looked odd, with the stone houses and the stairs leading up to the front doors, in case the Taren flooded. Bas had never been to any villages besides Emond's field and Watch hill, and Taren ferry was nothing like either of them.

The streets were empty, everyone had already gone to their beds long since. The people in Taren ferry didn't celebrate Bel tine, so the peacefulness and quiet here was a sharp contrast to the party going on in Watch hill, where he'd been earlier that same day. Bas found himself wishing he'd waited with leaving a little longer so he could have joined in the festivities. He sighed regretfully, it was too late for that.

After wandering through a couple of streets, he found an inn. 'The Local Pillow' it was called. It seemed to be the only place in all of Taren ferry where people were still awake. He could hear a lot of laughing from the interior.

When he opened the door, he immediately saw what was causing the laughter. A sharp-faced fellow was standing on a raised platform, talking loudly and making grand gestures, most of them indicating anger. Around the podium was a large crowd, consisting mainly of large, raucous men who looked to have had more than their share of ale. Only a small group did not seem to want any part of it. They were six men huddled together in a corner of the room, staring angrily and somewhat suspiciously at the man on the podium.

Bas shook his head and went straight for the bald, pudgy man standing behind the bar, whom he assumed was the innkeeper. He didn't want any part of whatever was going on. He took a room for the night, and asked for his meal to be brought up.

The room he got seemed cold compared to those in the Winespring inn, and was definitely smaller. The walls were white and bare. The single window was small and opened only halfway. Bas assumed that was so no one would escape without paying. Taren ferry people were well known in the Two rivers for being thieves and scoundrels.

Sighing, Bas dumped his stuff on the floor and sat down on his bed. A lot of things would probably be different from now on.

There was a knock at the door, and a serving girl came in with a tray of food. Bas could see the meal wasn't much. A bowl of soup and some dry bread. _A harsh winter indeed._

After placing the tray on the small table placed in the corner of the room, the girl smiled at him. She had cute freckles and the curls of her hair framed her pretty face. Bas found himself starting to blush and quickly turned his concentration to the food. The girl left then, seeming dissappointed for some reason.

Bas didn't even try to understand why. Ever since birth he had barely been around girls, and whenever he was he just didn't know what they wanted. Others, like Rand and Perrin, seemed to be able to read what was on a girl's mind just by looking at them. He'd have to ask them what the trick was, if there was a trick of course.

The scant meal was soon finished. Yawning, he put his baggage that he'd first let fall to the floor in the solitary closet and locked it. He put the sword and the closet key beneath his pillows, but placed them under the covers next to him instead after finding out a sword could easily be felt through a pillow. Rubbing his head, he hoped it wouldn't leave a bump.

He left early the following morning. He wasn't used to sleeping in anyway, there was always too much farmwork to be done, or had been before he left.

Although the sun was still down, people were already crowding the streets, going about their early business. He asked directions to the ferry, and a kind old woman gave them, she seemed the only one not in a hurry.

After following the elder lady's directions, Bas soon came in sight of the Taren. A wide stretch of water, far wider by far than the Winespring.

At the ferry dock, a large crowd seemed to have gathered, facing the sharp-faced man Bas had seen in the inn the previous night.

"It's true!" The man exclaimed, using elaborate hand gestures again. "The witch sunk the ferry!"

Bas groaned. _Perfect! Just bloody perfect!_

* * *

And this is where I end the first chapter of this story. I'm quite amazed at the length I put down here. I don't think I've ever written a chapter that was this long for any story up till now. I must say I'm quite pleased. However, this often seems to be the case with first chapters, so I don't know for how much it counts. Anyway, I'm wide open for suggestions, requests, flames (Always good for a laugh), or anything else you might want to send my way. Of course, if you don't feel like sending anything, no sweat either. I know _I'm_ definitely to lazy to send reviews to every story I read.

Aaaaaand I think that was all that was necassary for me to say... Yeah!


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